From: ephemeral@ephemeralfic.org Date: Tue, 8 Aug 2000 18:03:54 -0500 Subject: becoming judas (5/12) by darkstar Source: direct Reply To: clone347@aol.com from: darkstar (clone347@aol.com) rating: strong pg-13. this part contains violence which some people may find disturbing classification: see part one disclaimer: see part one summary: see part one - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - becoming judas 5/12 darkstar - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The glaring white of the lamp swinging over his head was the only light in the room, allowing whoever was asking the questions *this* time to see him as well as blinding him to their faces. Monsters liked the dark. They had this allergy to things like light and truth and exposure. That was why they wished to destroy those those things. This particular group of monsters seemed to have gotten the idea that they could use him to do it. Mulder wished they hadn't taped his eyes open this time. The light burned like someone was dripping acid in his eyes drop by excruciating drop. All in all he was surprised the shadow men hadn't thought of that yet. It didn't help matters that he was hanging from the ceiling like a piece of meat on a hook, and his arms were about to drop off from his body's dead weight. The alien mind had a genius toward new and different ways of producing screams. Lots of them. He hadn't screamed today. Yet. It would be a long eternity where minutes and seconds no longer existed, where time was measured only by the pounding of his heart inside his skull before they threw him back into the barracks to lick his wounds before the next field trip through hell. Today it would be extremely hard to concentrate, to keep his mind on the strenuous task of holding his mind together. Today marked the end of a week of baited breath and fumbled prayers that Mastof had indeed kept his word, the day his luck ran out. She had still been asleep, her hair spilling across his arms like an ocean of fire, when the guards had come to get her. He slept close to her now, ever wary of another Eddy wannabe. And too it was just an excuse to be near her. Little rays of light like that were the only things that reminded him why he would walk into this room and hold his silence when everything else screamed for him to talk. Scully hadn't asked questions; the realization in her eyes said it all. But she didn't flinch, merely followed the guards down the hall, head held high as if she were a queen surrounded by her court rather than a prisoner escorted by guards. The three biggest guards in the camp- and Mulder was willing to say the meanest too- arrived to take him next. They were his usual escort. All the way across the courtyard and through the scream-haunted corridors his mind had been on her. He had tried insisting she knew nothing, nothing at all. He had tried phony confessions. The profiler side of his brain told him that they probably expected Scully to break easily because she was a woman. He was afraid for her because he knew she wouldn't. ************* For one moment she honestly believed she would faint for the first time in her life. The whole situation was unreal, like someone else was in her body being strapped to a black metal platform. The real Scully, the Scully that was her, watched from above as the attendants reached under her shirt to attach electrodes to the major nerve centers of her chest to match the others on her temples and pressure points. That Scully had already detached herself as the glistening spikes of hypodermic needles pumped the other Scully's body full of endorphin-dampening drugs designed to suppress the body's natural pain relief. Adrenaline too, it's function being to make her senses wide and receptive to the torture, pushing her as far away from the shelter of unconsciousness as possible. She was calm and she was terrified. Mulder had been taken no less than five times already, including today's session, and she had expected her turn to follow soon. But the fact that she was ready for it did not make the prospect any easier. The anticipation had settled in her stomach like a lead weight, making her wonder if she would throw up. Not that she could. They never fed prisoners on the day of their interrogations. Scully supposed it made the clean up process easier. As if on cue the attendants vanished to their stations, the various monitors and machines that were meant to let the doctors push her body to the breaking point and beyond if they so wished. She hated the helplessness more than anything, the way she was pinned to the platform like a butterfly on a vivisection table. The hum of machinery above her drew her attention, as a silver band of metal attached to a robot arm fit tightly around her head. "Do you know what this is, Ms. Scully?" The band wouldn't allow her to move her head, but the voice came from her left. A high, nasal voice probably belonging to a doctor or a scientist, her old enemies. She chose silence as the best answer. "It's called an electrolysis machine. Quite a brilliant device actually, engineered by the brightest of the aliens. I quite wish we had thought of it first." This man was human. One of her own kind and flesh and blood....human? She pushed the shock aside so she could hear the man's description of the machine. Knowing was dreadful but not knowing was twice as bad. "It feeds of the body's own nervous system. Uses the electrical pulses of the body and the brain against itself. I read your file. You used to be a doctor. You know, then, how much raw power is contained within the fragile vessels of our nerves. Of course, we made a few minor improvements- juiced it up a bit for when it's necessary. But that's what I'm hoping to avoid." He paused for a moment. "We need information from you, Ms. Scully, information that your partner hasn't been very open with. Names, places...." ************** "...people, faces, numbers. Strengths and weakness. Everything you can tell us about the rebellion." The voice of the entity- Mulder was pretty sure it was alien but not completely- who headed the interrogations from nightmare to nightmare came floating out of the darkness, low and rasping like the hiss of a cobra. He was pretty sure this was the shrink Mastof had warned him about, the one flown in just for him and Scully. He whole-heartedly wished they hadn't gone to so much trouble on their account. The light was beginning to slice past his eyes and deep into his brain, sending tiny ripples of pain wherever it touched to meet the larger waves traveling up and down his arms and upper back. He didn't need to think before he gave his answer, however. "I can't help you with that." he said. Snake Man sighed heavily. "To be blunt I grow tired of the pointlessness of these meetings-" "Then let me be the first to advise you to relax." Mulder interrupted him. "Take the day off. We can have a nice friendly chat over coffee. No tape on the eyeballs....no beatings....no cattle prods. Sounds good to me." "I will be more than happy to if you will just answer a few questions first." His voice fell into the "bargaining" cadence that Mulder knew preceded the order to begin the heavy stuff. "You know, we might even be able to do away with these sessions all together. Not only for you, but for your partner as well. The doctors who are treating her are not as patient as I am. The longer you persist, the longer you force us to interrogate her as well, the more damage will be done. And you know how hard the first time can be." Mulder closed his eyes and tried not to listen. Hard wasn't the word for a person's first encounter with the limits of human endurance and willpower. He remembered the night after his first meeting with the Snake Man, how he couldn't move without after screaming from the pain it caused. Scully had stayed beside him, her voice and hands like an angel of light in the midst of demons. The hiss continued, forcing him to hear the words. " *Permanent* damage. Oh I'll admit, she's a brave girl, but you and I both know that her body can only take so much before it breaks." "You don't know her." Mulder could barely speak the words around the guilt clogging his throat. "You don't know her strength." "Well the point is useless now. All I want to know is this-are you willing to answer the questions or not? Think about it Mulder. For yourself. For her." "I can't help you." His standard answer saved him when he wanted to agree, to sell out and buy her safety again. Another sigh and this time the voice was not directed to Mulder but to the invisible men around him. "You may..." ************* "...Begin." The doctor waved at the attendants as they stepped back, finished with their preparations. A silence so heavy that single heartbeats rang out like drums settled over the room like a storm cloud, smothering everything in it's path. Scully's hands instinctively balled into fists but she forced her body to relax, reminding herself that tense muscles would only worsen the pain. She drew in a deep breath, sending her mind other places than the fear hovering around her. Remembering Melissa and home and the innocence of childhood. She had been free then, and happy. All of a sudden, the words of a nursery rhyme they used to sing sprung out of the closet of her memory. A scalding hot wave of pain ripped through her, momentarily halting the beating of her heart and her breathing, then throwing her body into an arching convulsion. As if on cue, every nerve in her body cried out in pain and the scream battered against her lips, but Scully refused to give them the satisfaction of hearing it. Finally the shockwave passed, leaving her shaking on the table. Just in time for another. And another and... ************ Another man entered the room, sending a crack of light into the monster's shadows, but the darkness soon engulfed it as the door closed again. Snake Man's voice returned once again out of the darkness. "Meet Dr. Soki." he said. "Since you refuse to talk of your own free will he will stimulate your mind into cooperation." Through the agonizing light and the blurry world he saw through the tape, Mulder could see the silhouette of a man advance towards him out of the shadows. More importantly, he could see the glistening needle of a syringe in his hand. Then it hit him. Truth drugs. His mind was so occupied trying to piece together a strategy to get around this new tactic that Mulder scarcely felt the tiny prick of the needle as a rush of something both scalding hot and icy cold flooded his veins. He had expected the drugs to take effect rapidly- maybe within five minutes- but the instant transformation caught him completely off guard. His blood carried the poison swiftly to his brain, where it exploded in a shower of white sparks that floated down across the panel of his vision like snowflakes in the winter. The world around him began to darken in an ever-widening vortex that sucked him down into it's grasp, and the name his mind screamed was.... "Scully," the doctor spoke slowly, as if talking to a small child. "We can stop it any time you like. Say the word," his fingers danced around the control button. "And it's all over." She heard his words, but cursed herself for wanting to listen to them. All over...no more pain...no more fire. Until now she never knew you could be burning and soaking wet at the same time. Her skin dripped sweat, her hair clinging to her face in damp tendrils she wished she could push away, but her body ached. Muscles, tendons, nerves, joined forces to beg her for relief. Or at least unconsciousness. The doctors would not even allow her that. Scully would never have dreamed she would face something as terrible as her abduction had been, as frightening as the shadow memories of lights and doctors and needles that seemed to vanish whenever she wanted to look at them head on. Memories no one knew but her, because she couldn't tell them to a living soul, not even Mulder. To talk about them meant they were real and she needed something left to deny. At least one demon she *didn't* had to face at this moment. "You make this so hard when it can be simple. All we want is information, Scully, cold impersonal facts. You don't actually believe this is worth dying for, do you? That your pitiful attempts at resistance will come to rescue you?" The doctor laughed, and the sound cracked like ice. "No one will come. No one can help you but me. Tell me what we need to know. " Her vocal cords were sore and barely worked enough so she could get her words out in a whisper as dry as two pieces of sandpaper rubbing together. "And you...call....yourself....a...human..." "Who is the leader of the rebellion?" She spit at him. "Increase the charge!" the man roared, hurriedly wiping the spittle from his cheek. "I want to hear her scream." She gasped as the white hot heat returned,cooking her body from the inside out. Her teeth attacked the inside of her cheek, drawing blood in a desperate bid for silence. The shock was longer this time, repeated more quickly. When she opened her eyes, jagged flashes of red and white-blue danced around the outline of her vision. "Lower the charge." The voice of an attendant sounded miles away instead of right beside her. "You'll kill her! She's had enough!" "Not nearly." the doctor growled. "Higher." Pure, unadulterated hell jolted through Scully's body, twisting it around like a pretzel on a stick. Instead of lasting a moment of two, the shock prolonged into a lifetime, until blue sparks begin flying out of her body. She couldn't think of the next words, they were pushed out of her mind by a numbing wall of fire. The acrid scent of something burning bit into her nose, and in horror she realized it was *her*. The longer she waited for the pain to decrease, the longer she prayed for a slight relief, the hotter the agony grew. From the very pit of her soul a cry began to build, exploding out of her mouth when she had no strength left to stop it. "Mulder!!!!" Her eyes, blinded by tears, pried themselves open, crying out to his soul. The sound of his name caused him to open his eyes. Mulder shook his head, regretting the action immediately as the contents of his brain sloshed from one side to the other like nauseating soup. They must have moved him. This room was empty. No lights. No men. No tape. He looked down and found himself standing on the floor instead of dangling above it. A soft, muted light filled the room but not from any lamp he could see. Was the interrogation over? Or was this some new trick? "Fox." The girl's voice repeated his name, a voice that sounded so familiar he didn't believe it was true. Turning around he saw Samantha standing in front of him, wearing the same nightgown she had "that night". "Hi Fox." "Hello." he said, looking around hesitantly for some indication of a deception. "Samantha?" "Who else would it be?" she giggled, and tugged on his sleeve. "Sit down." He obeyed, still staring at her in shock. A distant corner of his mind breathed. But it couldn't be. She looked real, she sounded real. When he touched her it was flesh and bone, not vapor. "Why are you still young?" "Because I am young! The aliens put me in cryo-something after they were finished with the tests. When they woke me up again they said it was to keep me from aging." "Why wouldn't they want you to grow up?" Samantha shrugged. "I don't know." She shook her finger at him, her face suddenly stern. "They say you're being very, very bad, Fox. All they want are some old names and other junk. Then we can be together again." She edged closer to him, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "I missed you." "Sam, I can't tell them." She pulled back, her face falling down in a pout. "But Fox, don't you want to be with me?" "Of course I do," Mulder put his arms around her and held her close to him. "But if I give them the information, innocent people will die." "The aliens said the only people who die are bad people. You shouldn't hang around bad people Fox. Mommy wouldn't like it very much." Mulder couldn't speak. A tiny voice inside him chanted over and over, but his mind seemed far away, locked outside the room. "I can't tell them." he repeated his answer when he could talk, not for Samantha's benefit but for himself. "Oh Fox, don't say that." she covered his mouth with her hand. "They told me that if you don't tell me, they'll have to do bad things to you. To me too." Her eyes were wide and frightened when she looked up at him again. "You won't let them hurt me, will you?" Before he could answer, tongues of yellow orange flame rose up from the floor across the room from them. The fumes already began to sting the eyes and the back of his throat. Mulder craned his neck around the room in search of an exit, but the room remained sealed. Samantha shook her head sadly. "You see? You've made them angry. We're both in trouble now." Another patch of fire started to the left of them, rapidly eating it's way toward them. Other parts of the floor began to catch fire on their own, and the fumes became choking, as did the rush of fear within him. Smanatha's face reflected his emotions as she pleaded with him. "Tell them the answers, Fox. Tell them or else we'll both die!" Through the thickening smoke he opened his eyes to look at her. "I....can't...." One of the tongues of flame licked at the edge of Samantha's nightgown, and she began to scream as the fire spread over the rest of her. "Fox, they're hurting me. Make it stop....Fox it hurts....tell them...." Mulder groaned in pain as the fire began to surround him, reaching out for her only to be slung back by an invisible hand. "Samantha...." The room began to fade as her screams grew louder and the fire began to eat away at his own body. Her voice continued on, begging him. "Tell them, Fox. You have to..." The thought ended an eternity of crystallized seconds, and Scully's body fell back to the platform, limp and motionless. Her eyes flickered like a dying flame as her mind tried to cling to the thin precipice of consciousness, but they eased shut as it sheared away above her, casting her down into nothingness. As she fell the rhyme danced like children's voices in her head. ************* "Hey, look who's alive after all." The voice was muffled and distant, like it was coming from above the surface of consciousness into the gray film where he drifted. He didn't want to answer. He wanted to sleep....Mulder tried to roll over but a hand stopped him. "No you don't. C'mon Mulder. Wake up time." Slowly but surely the voice drew him closer and closer to the surface until all at once the film fell away and he discovered he was standing in the blackness behind his eyelids as they opened and shut to test their strength. A pair of bright green eyes, filled with concern mingled with relief, came into focus first, followed by the rest of Trader's face. "Welcome back to planet Earth." The voice was still distorted by the buzzing in his ears, but the cup that held cold water to his parched lips was welcomed. "For a while I'd thought you'd left us for good." "How long have I been back?" he croaked. "I'd say about an hour. You've been in and out of consciousness. When they first brought you back you were calling for someone named Samantha." Trader didn't ask a question about it but Mulder knew he wanted to so he answered anyway "My sister. She...uh...disappeared when I was a kid. Kidnapped." "Man, that's harsh." Trader said. "I was wondering what your trip into la la land was like. Mine was a Bermuda beach and three gorgeous blondes asking me to confess to robbery for my own good." "You mean the hallucinations are a side effect of the truth drugs?" "They are the drugs, man. The whole purpose is to surround you with something you like, and then maybe you'll be more receptive to it." "I feel like I've been chewed up, spit out, and stepped in." "That's one of the real side effects. You'll be sick for a couple hours but then you'll even out. Hey look on the bright side....as long as you're doped up you can't feel those bruises." Trader grimaced. "Looks like someone took a broomstick to the better part of your body." At least he had survived yet another of their mind games, relatively intact....Scully. The thought burst back onto the surface of his mind. The room shook from dizziness caused by the speed at which he moved his head to search for her. Nothing. "Where is she?" he said, groaning at the nausea the dizzy spell left behind. "Scully...is she back yet?" Trader's face grew solemn in a way Mulder had never seen him look before. "The guards dropped her here about ten minutes before you showed up. Or what was left of her." "Where is she?" Mulder was halfway to his feet before the room started spinning again and he started to sway with it. Trader grabbed his shoulders. "Take it easy. I bargained with one of the others for their bed, so I put her in that. She wasn't exactly in a condition that would be benefited by stone floors." "I want to see her. I want to see her now." "Relax, she's right over here." Mulder followed Trader over to a corner of the room as far away from the business of the outside hallway as possible. He could see the outline of her body over Trader's shoulders but when he stepped in for a closer look, Trader stopped him. "Are you sure you want to see this now?" "Trader," Mulder said, "Do you want to try and stop me?" There was a moment of silence and then he moved out of the way. "Don't say I didn't warn you." Mulder stepped to the bed side, feeling the drug-induced sickness drain out of his body in place of another kind of illness. She lay on the bed, her face a white so pale the skin was almost transparent. It played a stark contrast against the sweat-matted tangle of her hair and the blood red of her lips. On closer look, Mulder realized that it *was* blood, pooling around her lips from the inside of her mouth. He had to stare long and hard at her chest before he could detect the faint up-and-down motion that meant she was alive. His fingers covered her wrist, searching for a pulse. For a moment he was terrified, and then he felt the beating of her heart, weak like a newborn butterfly. It was amazing how clear his head was all of a sudden. "Trader," he said, his voice quiet, a deception of it's true intensity. "What did they do to her?" Trader's voice was sad in itself as he talked. "I can't be sure, but the best bets say shock treatment." "I didn't hear you right. You didn't say shock as in electric, did you?" "Shock treatment's just the slang for it. Who knows what the real name is. See this?" Trader pointed to a webbing of fine burns across her arms. "It comes from nerves burnt from the inside out." "Burnt?!? What are you talking about?" "I don't know, I told you. I've only heard the rumors." "Well start spreading them." "It's one of the least friendly methods of interrogation in this whole freak show. The doctors hook you up to this machine that turns your nerves and brain into this giant network of live wires and then they zap you if you don't play ball." "They did that to her?" Mulder swallowed hard to keep the instant fury to a dull roar for the moment. He had to focus, keep his attention on her right now. Not on revenge. That would come later. If he just kept telling himself that maybe he could resist the urge to hunt down the Snake Man and wrap his self-assured vocal cords around his neck. His hand slipped over Scully's. Why did it always end up this way? He was the one knocked around but she was the one who ended up lying on Death's doorstep like an abandoned child. He was the one who pulled her back. The cycle couldn't end now. "She needs real medical treatment." he said. "This hell hole has to have an infirmary." "Oh they do. Top of the line, so I've heard." "Then why are we standing here?" Mulder moved to scoop Scully into his arms. "We have to get her there *now* before she gets any worse." "No, Mulder, you don't understand." Trader's hand rested on his shoulder. "It's not for prisoners. We have to tend our own sick. The weak die off. The strong live for the next round." "What?" Mulder couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. He could do nothing for her? Nothing? Ask him to do something easy, like stop breathing. "All we can do for people in her...condition....is keep them fed and cared for until they wake up." "How long does it take them to wake up?" His eyes bled the pain leaking from his soul as he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face. "I don't know." Trader said. "Sometimes...well, sometimes they don't." ************* Time itself seemed to mourn, the hours losing definition until it was night again and he found himself the sole person awake in a room full of sleep. His own eyelids felt lead-heavy, and Mulder would have gladly surrendered to the velvet soft seductions of sleep. He would have, if it were not for the tiny hand so limp in his own and the perhaps irrational- perhaps not- fear that if he slept Death would catch him off guard and steal her away. He had been caught sleeping once. Never again. "Scully, we have to stop this kind of conversation." Talking to her helped keep him awake, and Mulder didn't care what standard medicine said, he knew she could hear him. "It's bad for your health." Her left eyelid twitched. Mulder took it as a sign she agreed. He traced patterns on her skin, the feathery red burns looking so out of place in the milky white. "God, Scully, I'm so sorry. I need you to wake up and talk me out of something "incredibly rash". Because if you don't I'm going to go kill someone and that wasn't a joke either." No movement this time. "If this was the outside world, I'd be running around with my gun terrorizing nurses and hunting old men who smelled like smoke. But there's nothing we can do Scully. They don't treat prisoners here. It's just up to us...." At this point his eyes lighted on her face, studying it for the thousandth time, but it felt like the first. There was no emotion on her features, and he could almost fool himself into believing she was asleep if it hadn't been for the tiny crinkles of pain around her eyes and the blood on her lips. As he watched, a thin line of it spilled down the side of face, staining the skin in scarlet. He reached out and wiped it away with his finger, noticing how it shone in the moonlight. Something inside him gave. Sliding his arms under Scully, he lifted her body off the bed, holding her as gently as he could. There was one man in this whole god-forsaken camp who could help him. And Mulder was going to get to that man. He began to move toward the door, when Trader's voice caught him. "Don't do it, man. If they catch you outside barracks after curfew, you'll get end up in solitary. We're talking a three foot wide, five foot high metal box where they feed you so little a mouse would starve." "Is that supposed to stop me?" "Yes." Trader rolled to his feet. "Hey, look, I'm sorry about Scully. But you can't help her if you're not with her. And I've seen plenty of good men go nuts in those lockers." "I don't have a choice." Mulder said, turning back so Trader could see her. " You can sit and watch if you'd like, but I'm going to get her into that infirmary, if it kills me." "You really are insane, do you know that?" "So they've said." He turned to go. "Wait." Trader grabbed his shoulder. "You don't know jack about this camp. You'll probably end up wandering into the guard's quarters." He shrugged and gave a half-hearted laugh. "I must be catching the insanity because I'm going with you." Mulder shook his head emphatically. "No. I'm not going to ask you to do that. If the penalty's as tough as you say I don't want to be responsible for bringing another person in on it." "Mulder, are you going to try and stop me? " A wry grin spread across Mulder's face. "Point taken." He shifted Scully against him in a better grip. "But for the record I protested." "Yeah whatever." Trader stepped in front of Mulder, a shadow among shadows. "Actually breaking and entering was the reason I landed my butt in here in the first place. This ought to be fun." "Fun would not be the word that comes to mind." "Shhh." he held a finger to his lips. "We're at the door. They don't post guards at the door but they have patrols. And b-e-lieve me, you don't want to meet one." The click of the doorknob turning seemed unnaturally loud, and Mulder found himself holding his breath as they stepped from the darkness into the dimly lit hallway, waiting for shouts and the sound of whips. Only the walls and the floor greeted them in stony disapproval of their actions. "So far so good." Trader whispered. "Where are we headed ?" "The Commander's office." " *What?*" He spun around in his tracks, his jaw hanging open. "Did those drugs put you *permanently* out of your *mind*? Man, that's just asking for solitary." "You wanted to come." Mulder reminded him. "If you want out, step back into the barracks and I'll find my own way." Trader shut his mouth, a determined set to his jaw. "No, I'll take you. My brother always said I should get involved." He raised his eyebrows. "Think of it as my contribution to humanity for the year." Mulder rolled his eyes. "Lead on, boy scout." "Hey- I was one once, don't knock it." Their conversation stopped when they started moving again, the silence filled with private thoughts and buried apprehension. Each step was a thousand miles to Mulder, his muscles bunched together in expectation of a fight. Mastof wasn't exactly his definition of an ally, but he was the closest thing to help he had left. To be honest, Mulder didn't know what he'd do. He had no room to make threats or promises of retaliation if the man refused to help. He didn't beg. But begging might be the only option he had. The threat of a patrol was a welcomed excuse to take his mind away from the subject. When they had passed three corridors undetected, he knew they were lucky. "Lucky" didn't apply to him very often. At the corner where the third hallway ran into the fourth, whatever charm had been protecting them thus far, stopped. No sooner had they turned the corner when they all but ran into a patrol. A very large, very mean looking patrol. Surprise froze both sides for a moment, staring at each other in something close to shock. The guards regained life first. "You two! Stop!" The words were enough to jolt Mulder and Trader back into reality, and the mayhem started. He hugged Scully to him as tight as he could, breathing a silent prayer that she would forgive him if he was hurting her, and ran. Trader ran in front of them, the feet of the guards thundered behind, and Mulder was caught in the middle trying to run as fast as possible without dropping her. The muscles in his back were taut the point of snapping in two, and he could almost feel the lash of the whip. He recalled the biting pain from the courtyard, and decided he never wanted to feel that again. But he would welcome it head on, if it would just make her open her eyes again. He could see Mastof's door at the end of the hall, drawing closer by the minute but not as fast as the guards were closing in. The pounding behind him grew louder, and a ribbon of slicing pain caught around his ankle, jerking him to his knees. His momentum carried him forward, crushing Scully's body between him and the floor. For a moment, concern that he had hurt her took precedence in his mind, and then the guards surrounded him, the black snakes of their whips tearing at his flesh like living things. Mulder rolled over on top of Scully, crouching over her to try and keep her out of harm's way, leaving his back open and unprotected before the beating. He could hear the angry taunting of the guards, their voices as sharp as the lash of the whips they carried. "You think you're a big boy, huh ? That you don't need to sleep like the rest of the prisoners ?" Another crack and another strip of his skin split in two. "See how you like *this*...." Mulder zoned in on the epicenter of his pain, detaching himself from himself until he had numbed his feelings into mechanical actions. It helped, he had learned, to lessen the pain if one identified with machines, because metal and gears couldn't hurt. In many ways he felt like a robot, the only command registering in his brain was to . Between the red hot pain and the icy blue defeat he couldn't see where Trader had gone until he heard a familiar voice call out in front of him. "Hey, slobs, catch me if you can!" Three of the guards started after him, and the others were distracted for all the space of a heartbeat. That was all Mulder needed. He scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain that radiated from his back throughout the rest of his body as he ran with speed he didn't know he had. Think machine. Think unfeeling. Think Scully. The door edged closer and closer, and the shouts of the guards seemed to fade away as Mulder focused all his concentration on forcing the jelly-like muscles of his legs one stride further. And another. And another. They caught up with him about the time his fingers closed around the doorknob, speed pushing all of them through the door and into Mastof's office. The guards surrounding Mulder shoved him to the floor, and a boot to his side made sure he stayed there. One of them dared to reach for Scully. Mulder fought until he had beaten the soldier, back, clutching her to his chest for dear life. They wouldn't take her. They wouldn't hurt her anymore. Chaos ruled a moment longer and then Mastof's voice demanded insant order. " *What* is this?" The guard trying to pull Scully away stepped back, and Mulder found his breath suddenly cut off as a whip curled around his neck, forcing his head back. "We found this scum breaking curfew in the halls. Permission requested to take him and the woman to solitary." "Permission denied." Mastof growled. "Let him up." A fresh dagger of pain sliced upward through his heart and lungs and the guard hauled him to his feet. Mulder pulled away from their hands, standing up as straight as he could. "I need to talk to you." he said, his voice dry to his own ears, cracking as some of the pain broke through his machinery. "Please...I need your help." Mastof's eyes traveled from him down to Scully's limp body. A long second dragged by before he nodded. "All of you, leave us alone." Muttering an obscenity in Mulder's direction, the lead guard walked out of the room, followed by the others. Mulder didn't give them a second glance, blood rushing to his head as he turned back to Mastof and tried to think of the right words to say but wisely waited for the other man to speak first. Mastof remained silent one moment more, taking in the thin lines of crimson marking Mulder's arms and the torn cloth of his shirt. The pain in the his eyes couldn't lessen the note of pride in Mulder's gaze, in the way he stood straight and tall even though he was swaying. "If you went through all that to get to me, it had better be important." "She needs medical treatment." Mulder said, going directly to the point before Mastof could change his mind and call the guards back. "The infirmary is off limits to us, but not to you." Mastof shook his head instantly. "I can't help you there Mulder. The medical facilities aren't for prisoner use." Anger pushed Mulder's words out of his mouth. He moved forward until he was standing directly in front of Mastof's desk. "So that's it? So you're just going to sit back and pretend that you're still human when !she is dying!?" He laid Scully's body across the desk. "Look at her. This is what your bosses did to her, hooked her up and cooked her from the inside out !" "I warned you about his interrogation methods but you refused to listen. You brought that on her yourself. She didn't cooperate. She knew what would happen." Mulder toned his voice down from shouting, and leaned across the desk, grabbing hold of Mastof's arm. He never begged but he was going to now. "Please... that may be true, but she's a human too, your own flesh and blood, and she is not going to wake up from this unless you get her into that infirmary very soon. I'll take a beating, I'll take solitary, but don't let her die." Very slowly Mastof disengaged himself from Mulder's grip and looked down at Scully. Mulder had no idea what he was asking him to do- commit a serious breach protocol *while* there was a high ranking alien official in the camp, and in the process risk his job and even his own freedom for two prisoners. But there was no denying the fact that she was going to die if he did nothing. The tell-tale burns of electrolysis told him what they had done. The method was not his favorite, but it was standard interrogation procedure and it usually got results. This time, however, he could see that the snake-voiced alien and his friends had gone a long way past simple stimulation to produce an answer. Business was business, but Mastof had no stomach for torturing prisoners out of simple pleasure. He took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. "I'll take her to the infirmary." Mulder began to thank him but he held up his hand. "Don't. You're to leave this office and report to solitary for three week's confinement due to breach of curfew and direct disobedience of orders. If you still want to thank me at the end of three weeks, you can, but don't now. " Mulder nodded, not caring if it was three months. Scully would be safe, Scully would be cared for. "You won't let anything happen to her, will you?" he asked gravely. "You won't let them do any tests, or experiments. She can't go through that again...just don't let them near her. Ok?" Mastof was intrigued. Again... Scully had been abducted? Memories his own encounters with testing tables and lost time sent a barely suppressed shudder up and down his spine. "No." he promised. "She'll be under my personal protection. No one will hurt her." Satisfied, Mulder bent over Scully and brushed a feather light kiss on her forehead, near her hair, wondering if it would be the last thing she would feel this side of paradise. The thought hit him smack in the forehead that he was leaving her alone and defenseless in the arms of the enemy. He had to nearly run out of Mastof's office for fear he wouldn't be able to leave. to be continued... - - - - - - - - - - - - becoming judas 6/12 darkstar - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - In another life, another time he never would have dreamed that his life could be reduced to endless obsession consuming his days and nights with a burning desire for man's most basic needs. Water. Food. Companionship. The sun rode high in the sky, turning his metal quarters into an oven. Even the bugs were too hot to attack him full force, but Mulder was weakened beyond caring. It had been two weeks, five days. That much he knew as fact. At times he wondered if they were going to come get him at all, or if they were going to leave him in here until his rotting carcass fed the hordes of insects infesting the box. But today was a landmark. Today was the day the fragile cord binding his dignity to his body had snapped in two. Today he had started screaming for water. Any moisture today's pitifully small rations would have provided him had long been sucked from his body by the every-thirsty sun. It was like every other one of the nineteen days he had spent in the Oven, as he now dubbed it, but it was different. He could no longer take the swelling of his tongue, the tantilizing visions of Scully and of oceans of clear, cold *water*. He had threatened, he had begged, he had cursed but the guards who controlled the water rations must be deaf. They were going to let him die in here, completely dried up by the heat. It was amazing that he he could track his slow slide into defeat with such astonishing clarity. Days one through seven. He had survived beyond well, accepting the meager piece of stale bread and cup of water that were his meals, and even dealing with the heat. Scully was all right. He could do this for her. Day eight was the first day the problems began. He had not been able to keep himself from drinking all his rationed water at once, instantly regretting it when the sun hit noon-day and full strength. But it was still okay, at least he could eat and at least he could dream of Scully after the sun went down. Day ten the guards cut back his meals to once a day. He had come close to snapping then, as hunger gnawed at his belly while thirst rubbed against his mouth. But he had held on, if only by reminding himself what the end of his time would bring him. Day twelve. Desperation set in, and he passed the time by catching some of the larger bugs and eating them. He had to have something- anything- to ease the pain in his stomach, and the black ones tasted pretty good if they didn't squirm too much going down. The bad news was, his back was beginning to burn like it was infected. Days thirteen through sixteen slid by in a montone of heat, thirst, and bug hunting. It was becoming his new favorite hobby. The night of day sixteen tragedy struck when he found he could not sleep. The bugs were back in full force and he couldn't eat enough to compensate for the ones that dug into *his* flesh with relish. Even if he ignored them, he couldn't ignore the stagnant heat nor the stench, nor the way his mouth felt filled with sand. No sleep meant no Scully and no Scully meant no hope. Day seventeen. Why had he done this again? Was she even alive, or would he step out from the box to find a fresh grave with her name on it? The answers were slipping away from him as was rational thought. Day eighteen. Happiness returned in the form of delirium. Instead of only dreaming at night, the hours were knit together by wonderful visions of swimming in the ocean with Scully, or sliding down a waterfall with Samantha. They were so nice he didn't need to eat or drink or hunt for bugs.... Today. Even the dreams were failing him, and a thirst so great he never knew it could exist possessed him and he began to beg the guards for a cup of water. It was all there, in technicolor detail. All that there remained for him to do was to give in to the demons and just let the sun have him. It would be so easy too... A shadow fell across the ventilation slats, and Mulder looked up, barely lifting his head from off the wall. "Who's there?" he called out, his voice so far gone he might have well remained silent. "Shhh." Trader- it was Trader!- cautioned him. "Come closer to this wall." Mulder obeyed, peeling himself off the floor and shooing the bugs away from his new position. "Ok, I'm here. Now what?" This was quite a nice illusion, different from the others. He could hear shock in Trader's voice. "Man, what did they do to you?" As he talked there was the sound of a cap unscrewing from a bottle. It was interesting, Mulder noted to himself, how real the tiny details were in dreams. "I'm sorry I couldn't get here earlier, but I was trying to avoid time in here myself. Fortunately the guards couldn't identify me and I made it back to the barracks in time. They've had this place pretty heavily guarded until today." Mulder had trouble paying attention to him. It was more fun playing with the words in his head. Then something cool and !wet! hit his forehead. The words vanished the instant he felt it. No dream had ever been this real, this wet before. He lifted his head up toward the source of the water, to find more of it cascading through the vents and onto his face. Mulder opened his mouth, gulping down each liquid diamond greedily, to the point of pressing his face against the slats for more. Stray drops trickled down his chest and neck to be polluted by his sweat, but it felt so delicously alive Mulder didn't mind the waste. It was water, real, cold water and it was all his. Just before he could begin to actually believe his good fortune, the waterfall jerked back along with a curse from Trader. "Guards, man! Sorry, I gotta go." "No...." Mulder rasped, calling after his friend but it was too late. He sank against the damp metal of the wall, thoroughly confused. His dreams never ended like that. Maybe it was a dream....maybe it wasn't. Dream or reality, he spent the rest of the day licking moisture from the walls until the sun stole that too and left him in a desert again. ************* Ever since she had been released from the infirmary, Scully had been secretly dreading this moment. The guards had come for her early in the morning, announcing that they were her escort to Interrogation Room B. Now, as her footsteps echoed like a funeral dirge down the hallway, she wondered what she would find. More invisible fire? A beating? The truth drugs Trader said they used on Mulder? Mulder. It had taken a while before she could convince Trader to tell her what had happened. How he had blatantly broken curfew to bargain a place in the infirmary for her. How he was now suffering the consequences for his actions in solitary confinement. She supposed Trader had his reasons for not wanting to tell her. She knew she had wanted to charge into the solitary yard guards or not, but that was out of the question. She could do nothing to help Mulder if she was in a little box too. And she had waited, like a good girl, but the guards were especially vigilant and Scully was beginning to approach desperation. She had to see him, to let him know she had not forgotten him. In fact, she had gone one step past remembering. The knowledge was with her every second of every day he was gone. It was with her now, and the thought of what he might be going through gave her added strength to stand tall as the door marked Interrogation Room B swung open. The room was almost completely bathed in dark shadows except for a circle of white light raining down from a hanging lamp in the middle of the room. A metal chair dominated the circle, and her attention was irrestibly drawn to the handcuffs built into the arms. With eerie silence the guards marched her to the chair, strapped her in and then left. The sound of the door slamming behind them was sucked into the blackness, leaving her alone. Her very breathing seemed like the rushing of a tornado. What kind of new game was this? She couldn't help but feel there was something alive in those shadows, watching her and waiting for a time to strike. Footsteps to the left caused her heartbeat to jump to light speed, and she whipped her head around to see a man walking toward her out of the shadows. His coal black hair was combed neatly back from his face, and the gray pinstriped suit he wore was in perfect condition. Her instant relief froze when his face became visible. The rest of the body might be human, but the eyes gave his true identity away. They were a solid inky black, and the evil they radiated was almost tangible. "Dana Scully." he said, pacing in front of her as he read from a manila file that she presumed to be hers. "Accused of murder and high treason against the state." The creature shook his head. "My we have been a bad girl, haven't we?" She found herself able to flash him a smile. "Give me a stiletto and five minutes alone with you and I'll show you bad." "Temper too. Not as bad as your partner, I must say, but yours is much more deadly in its own way. " The thing cocked its head to one side, as if he were studying her. "His anger is passionate but yours...yours is controlled and focused in it's intensity. That's what makes you what you are, doesn't it Dana? Control. It is such a vital part of your life." Scully used a little of that control to keep her face expressionless, although her instincts told her that this man- she used the term only as a point of reference- was dangerous. It wasn't just his eyes, but his voice too, the way it sounded exactly like a snake. "You can go ahead and act surprised. I know you are. You're wondering how I know so much about you. How I can read your mind." The man stepped into the light, a sinister smile on his face. "Well, the truth is that I can. You are a very special individual, Dana, even though you are a threat to us. You were Chosen." "Chosen." "Yes. You are superior to the other cattle here in that you carry part of us in you. A part planted in the experiments and the tests performed on you during you abduction, and activated by the tiny lump of metal you wear in your neck." The skin in the back of her neck over her implant began to prickle in a sensation she knew all too well. The thought that he could indeed lock in on her innermost thoughts, was more than a little discomforting but Scully was careful not to show it. Today's battle would not be a test of physical endurance, but a duel of wills. She had to use everything in her arsenal to her advantage. The man shut the folder, tossing it into the shadows, and walked until he was behind her. His hands rested on her shoulders around her neck, his thumb running over the surface of skin above the chip. His voice seemed to have a life of it's own, coiling around her from the shadows. "The human mind is such a thing of beauty. Primitive, yes, but beautiful. Your people have so many secrets, so hidden complexities that no one sees. " His hands glided up her neck until his fingers were at her temples. Scully's stomach turned and she swallowed hard to keep from retching at the coldness in his touch. As it was she sat ramrod straight, unmoving as she stared into the darkness and began to plot her defensive strategy. "It is often difficult to access the brain, to read the minds of you humans due to these very complexities. But you, my very dear Scully, are different. The chip in your neck hands me the keys that will unlock any door of thought that I wish. "Your mind belongs to me. It will make it so much simpler on both of us if you allow me to take the information I need and be done with it. But if you resist me, you risk harming only yourself. Because then I will be forced to take you apart memory by memory until there is nothing left." His voice was suddenly closer to her ear. "Nothing." "Is that so." She knew she was stalling for time, hastily fortifying her battle stations with the fortress of her mind. The location of the rebels, as well as the rest of the important information, was hurried away to the very back of her mind, guarded by several of her strongest emotional barriers. Yes, he could attack her mind, but that did not mean she could not fight him every step of the way. "You will make me prove myself." He sighed, and it sounded more contented than displeased. "It is just as well." The silence like the quiet before a battle settled over the room. Scully used the opportunity to seal the entrance to the knowledge with a hasty prayer. Then his fingers tightened on her temples and she knew the greatest fight of her life had begun. The assault on her mind started slowly, marked by a not quite physical stabbing sensation. Her eyes eased shut, and it felt as if someone was punching holes in the outer layers of her subconscious. Rather than wasting time and precious energy fighting the entry, Scully simply took a deep breath, stepped back, and waited for the intruder to show himself. The snake's voice hissed throught the dark corridors of her mind, thoroughly arrogant and self-assured. She threw the challenge out to him, knowing he heard it without her having to speak. Another sensation overtook her without warning, like thousands of tiny fingers and eyes were wandering through her mind, examining each path of thought then turning away if it was not what he wanted. Finally they latched onto the path that led to an outer door, then bonded together into the voice again. She gathered her thoughts together and began to concentrate on a silent recital of page #113, Section One, Sub-paragraph five, of the FBI Manual. To give the monster credit, he got the door open but she felt his subtle surprise when the monotone of facts and rules and technicalities struck him dead in the face. Each time he would try to push his way past it, she would recite another rule. While she had nothing to rival Mulder's photographic memory, her own power of recollection served her quite well when she wanted them too. Like now. Time didn't exist in the silent world of her subconscious. Years could have passed without her notice. The battle ceased to be an assault and turned into more of a chess match. The alien would make a move, try to access a memory that would lead to another and then to another and then to the "rebellion memories" as she called them. Scully in turn would block him with meaningless tidbits of information of no use to anyone. Each laid traps for the other. Sometimes he fell into hers. Sometimes it was the other way around. The mental exercise was taking it's toll on her body. Her muscles were tight and aching from the tensed concentration, and she was drowning in sweat. The stabbing sensation she had first felt returned again and again, each time becoming more real, more physical, until she couldn't tell that it wasn't real anymore. All her energy was focused on blocking the mind scan and there was just not enough to block the pain. It was perhaps the alien's greatest ally, the thing that vied the most for her concentration. The price of ignoring it was slight compared to the thrill that coursed through Scully everytime she kept a memory away from him. This was her mind. She did, indeed control it. And that was when she slipped. It wasn't intentional, and it wasn't even one of his traps. The mistake occured when she was reciting the section of the Bureau dealing with maternity leave. Scully wasn't quite able to keep a singe of regret out of her mind that she would never be a mother. The alien honed on the emotion almost immediately, wedging his foot in the door of her memory before she could slam it shut completely. Then he was gone, out of her mind and she was alone in the darkness there. When he spoke audibly it surprised her, jolting her to open her eyes. "You are quite a challenge, Miss Scully." His voice sounded tired, worn out. Good. "But not quite good enough. I have found a path into your memory. I will exploit it." "You will *try*." She sounded a lot more confident than she felt. The after-effects of the mind probe spun the world around her like a cotton candy machine, increasing the shooting pains stabbing in and out of her head. There was the click of locks and her handcuffs sprang away. The creature smoothed his hair back from where it had fallen out of place, and offered his hand. "You look a little tired, Dana. May I help you out of the building?" The false chivalry in his tone was compounded by the mocking bite to his words. Scully considered spitting in his hand, but merely rose to her feet unassisted and met him dead in the eye. "No," She said, letting her face and voice harden into granite. " *Thank you*. I'll make it on my own." "Suit yourself." He watched her keenly as she walked toward the door, and she could feel him just waiting for her to stumble. Her body wasn't cooperating, and it took an absurd amount of concentration to even walk in a straight line. Finally her fingers closed around the doorknob, pushing it open and away from the monster. Resisting the urge to run away as fast as she could and forget everything, she stood and turned to face him, meeting his eyes with all the skill her detachment could offer. "You see. I am perfectly capable of handling myself." The alien matched her smile with one of his own. "We shall see. My name is Pavlov. That is the name you will give the warden when you wish to reconsider." "Don't be too sure of that." Scully said, tossing the words over her shoulder as she walked out of the room. As soon as she heard the door slam shut behind her, she began to walk faster and faster until her feet were pounding to match her heart as she ran down the corridor. Air. She needed fresh air. Her stomach was churning when she finally came to the entrance and pushed it open, staggering outside into the sunlight. Trader, who had been sitting near the door, scrambled up when he saw her. "So how did it go..." The rest of his words slurred behind her as Scully ran past him to stop behind the nearest building. The bitter taste of bile filled her mouth seconds before she began to throw up everything in her stomach. She needed to purge herself, to get as much of the aliens presence out of her mind and body as possible. She had to feel clean again, and if this was the only way to do it, so be it. She just had to feel clean.... Finally it was over, and she looked behind her to see Trader pulling to a stop, shock plastered on his face. "What did they do to you?" Scully tried to get up but her legs weren't so keen on the idea, shaking so badly she had to remain seated. "I need to see Mulder." she told him, when she finally could talk. "I don't care who you have to bribe or what you have to do, just get me to see him." It took him a minute to regain his composure enough to nod. "All right.....man, are you sure you're ok ?" "Yeah." She wiped her face with the side of her sleeve. "I'll be fine. Just, don't tell Mulder about this, okay? It's just a little nausea. He has a lot on his mind." "I won't tell him." He agreed, although his face asked her why she wouldn't want him to know. Scully couldn't explain to him that Mulder wouldn't accept any explanations except for the truth. And in this situation, he couldn't handle it. She wondered if she could. ************ The solitary yard was filled with so many shadows that no one noticed two of them were alive, slipping through the night like silent ghosts. It was near impossible to tell that they were really a man and a woman. If someone were to look at her face, they would see a mix of hope and desperation, but then the shadows hid that too. Or at least Scully hoped they did. Trader had made good on his promise, and although he wouldn't tell her exactly what he had given the guards, she had seen the packets of white powderd cocaine he slipped in his pocket and decided she didn't want to know. The ends justified the means- they hadn't been accosted by a single guard their whole trip. Once they reached the edge of the yard, Trader motioned for her to stay back. "Wait for my signal. When I walk away from the guards you'll have ten minutes with him before the shift changes. I'll be waiting back here." He paused. "Are you sure you want to do this ? If the replacement guards catch you..." "I want to do it." Scully interrupted him. "I have to see him." He shrugged. "Suit yourself. Good luck." With that he slipped away. She could see his shape moving through the darkness and into the moonlight where the two guards were positioned. They talked for a moment, then Trader handed each of them a bag. The guard doing most of the talking snorted some of it, and seemed to be pleased. Trader shook his hand and then started walking away. That was her cue. She crouched low to the ground, just in case, and moved through the shadows in the direction of Mulder's box. Scully only hoped he would be alive when she got there. He had given up negotiations with sleep. It kept its distance as if it was too good to walk into his filthy little cell and give him the relief he hungered. Two days left. Forty-eight hours. 22880 minutes. 172800 seconds. But it only took one second and it would be all over, and he would have lost. And it would be defeat because Mulder was actually looking forward to what now seemed the inevitable. Optimism was dying fast- he couldn't avoid the truth that Scully was probably dead, that he had lost his gamble and left her to die alone in one of the hospitals she hated so much. That was, he knew, one of the reasons he reached out to welcome Death rather than fight him off. He could find Scully somewhere beyond the pale of eternity and then apologize for his mistakes. He could tell her all the things he hadn't in life. "Mulder..." A whispered delusion broke him away from his morbid cage of thought, and even though he knew it wasn't real, Mulder couldn't help but turn his head to the sound of Her voice. Then it hit him. The very best delusions didn't leave shadows, and the moonlight was being blocked from the ventilation slats by one very small shadow. Strength he had no idea he had left coursed through him, and he sat up quickly, pressing his hand against the vent. "Scully?!?" "Mulder." Relief was evident in her voice, and the tips of her fingers worked through the slats to meet his. The feel of her skin was electric, reminded him of what it felt like to be alive. She made him alive. "Am I dreaming?" He was afraid to ask, worried that she was nothing more than a ghost or he was already dead and heaven was the brush of her fingertips. "No." The metal creaked as she leaned against it, and Mulder tried to move until he sat exactly where she did. He could only imagine what it would be like to sit beside her again.... Her voice continued and he drank in every word like a healing medicine. "I woke up in the infirmary after three days. They released me two days after that." "They didn't run any tests did they-" Scully must have caught his apprehension, for her voice was warm and reassuring. "No Mulder. No tests." She heard his soft sigh of relief and was glad herself that it had been the truth. "Why'd you do it?" "Scully, you have to ask?" No, she didn't have to ask whether or not he would save her. She had to ask why. "It wasn't worth it. I'm not. This..." she glanced around the barren landscape. "is not worth it." "You're alive. That makes it worth it." The simple intensity of his words shocked her into silence. She didn't have an answer for that one. Moving closer to the wall, she pressed her face and hands against it, feeling the heat seep through her skin. Closer to him but not close enough. It was a long moment before she remembered one of the main reasons of her visit. Mulder always did have a way of doing that- making her forget tiny details like life and reality. Moving back slightly from the wall, Scully reached under her shirt and withdrew the bottle of liquid treasure she had horded so carefully over the past two weeks. The plastic ration bottle was nearly full. It was no exaggeration. "I brought you some water." She said, unscrewing the cap. "I'm going to pour it through the slats, ok?" "Ok." his voice was muffled by his movements as he drew closer to the wall. She stood on her toes, and she could just see his eyes through the slats. They shone in the moonlight as conflicting layers of pain and something she didn't dare name dueled back and forth. Mulder didn't stare at her- his gaze *consumed* her like he was memorizing every detail of her face. She would forget again if she didn't look away. Scully turned her focus to the water bottle and tilted it against the wall, letting the liquid pour through the slats. Part of it spilled down the outside wall, and she caught a drop on her finger. She rubbed the moisture around her lips, smiling at the simple pleasure. The water was good but even the soaking waves of wetness cascading down his mouth and face paled beside the memory of her eyes. Oh yes, and he did remember. He had stored the picture deep the in files of his photographic memory, an image that would stay with him as long as he lived. Mulder snapped out of his thoughts when he realized how much water he was drinking. "That's enough." He said. "Where did you get that much water?" He had a sneaking suspicion but he hope she wouldn't be that foolish. "I don't get thirsty much." "Terrible liar, remember? You *need* to drink." He flipped through his best ways to circumvent her stubborness and chose one that might be hitting a bit low, but would work, which was the important thing. "I didn't get you into that infirmary so you could die of heat sickness after you got out." Mulder was smart enough to keep his tone playful, but he knew she would get the message. Scully lowered the bottle, knowing he was right, and screwed the cap back on. She would save it for later, and maybe trade it for medical supplies. He'd need them after getting out of that torture box. "So how are you doing?" she asked. "Aw, not too bad." Mulder chose a bald-faced lie over the ugly truth. Deep inside he knew it wasn't to save her feelings as much it was to save her feelings for him. She couldn't know how close he came to surrender. "It's not all that worse than some of the joints we stayed in." The walls couldn't block the sound of her laugh and he found himself smiling as well, though the expression was rusty from disuse. "Not that I'll be in a hurry to make reservations here again." He was lying. Scully wished her gaze could pierce through the walls so she would see just how bad the truth really was. His voice gave him away- his words may be light but underneath was a note of pain she had only learned to pick up on by years of practice. "You'll be out in two days." She said, as much to remind him as herself. "Forty-eight hours." "Twenty-two thousand, eight hundred-" "Eight minutes." He finished off. "You count them too ?" "Every morning." Now it was his turn for the questions. Leaning back against the wall at an angle where, if he craned his head just right, he could see her face, he began to speak. "How has it been, out there?" "The usual. Trader's kept me out of any more brawls." She smiled but it was slightly bitter. "The usual...huh. One would think I'm adjusting." "That's the rule around here, so it seems. Assimilate in peace or in pieces. How do you do it ?" "In pieces." No use in lying about this. Scully wanted some small grain of truth to remain between her and Mulder, if only to make up for the larger lies she knew they both hid from each other. "And the interrogations?" "Fine." she said, wondering how much information to give him. "I went back today for the first time since, well, my first time." "How was it?" To Mulder the question sounded like a warped version of normal conversation. He was becoming jaded. Or to be correct, more jaded. "Different from the first." she said. "All they did was ask questions." Not entirely a lie. "No machines or things like that. I had a new interrogator." "Who?" "Said his name was Pavlov." The irony was not lost on her. "He was an alien." Mulder's blood turned to icicles in his blood despite the heat around him. "An alien?" "Well, he looked human, by the eyes gave it away." "And his voice was odd. Distorted somehow." He didn't like the images that thoughts of that monster alone with Scully brought to mind. Now he wanted out of the tin lunch box even more. She shouldn't have to go through that at all. Much less alone. "I know him." Scully was spared the minefield their conversation was about to cross through when a door cracked open near the back of the buildings, and two guards walked out. Time was up. "Shift change." she said, crouching down even further. "I have to go." "Two days." he said, placing his fingers through the vents as much as he could. "Two days." Her fingers brushed his once more, like the ghost of a kiss. "Stay strong." Then like any other angel she simply vanished back into the moonlight. Mulder strained his eyes to see through the darkness, waiting for any shouts that would mean she had been discovered. He remained that way for some time, frozen in silence, until the silence assured him of her safety, and he could relax. With some surprise he found he was tired, that he could scarcely keep his eyes open. The sooner he fell asleep, the sooner he could wake up. Then he could go to sleep again and wake up and see Scully. When he fell asleep, the skin on his fingertips was still burning from hers. ************* Two days later: Scully's knuckles were turning white from her death grip on the handrailing of the steps as she slowly walked from the Interrogation Building. She and Pavlov had played "chess" again today, and he had taken a rook. He had discovered Emily. Not in one sense of the word, because she was sure he already knew of her existence, but the alien had ripped the hinges from the door that protected the memories of her time with her daughter. It was one of the guards to the rebellion information. She had been able to beat him back, to minimize her damages, but it was too late. He already knew where to attack. Now she was tired both in body and mind, and dirty. The mind probes always left her feeling filthy, exposed. Scully supposed that was just the point. If anything had a point anymore. And if not why should *she* maintain her control when the rest of the universe was running amok ? She was running short of reasons to go on when she lifted her head and found one. Mulder was coming toward her. He was walking very slowly, like an old man, and stiffly like his back was hurting, but he was coming. In the fierce battle to keep her mind, Scully had nearly forgotten today was the day. She remembered now, and before she fully realized what she was doing, she was already flying across the courtyard toward him. Right as she reached him, she halted in a dead stop, ashamed to have let her impluses take over. Scully glanced at him then down at the ground, feeling her cheeks flush and hoping he wouldn't notice. "Hi." She whispered. He didn't speak. He moved. Pulling her into his arms, he held her so tightly she wasn't sure if she could breathe. She wasn't sure if she needed to anymore. His voice was as light as a whisper in her hair. "Hi." Scully relaxed into the embrace, wrapping her arms around his back. Mulder stiffened at the conact, wincing. "Sorry." He said. "A little sore." "What happened-" "It can wait." "No, it can't." She pulled away from him and Mulder instantly regretted opening his big mouth. "How bad did they beat you?" "Not that bad." He said. "I just think it got a little infected..." The word "infected" seemed to set off some kind of switch inside her, because she exploded into action the minute he spoke it. Grabbing his arm, she pulled him toward the barracks. "Why didn't you tell me? Has there been any swelling ? Pus or any other kind of runny fluids? Fever? Nausea?" "Scully." He smiled when he spoke. "Breathe." She glanced up at him and favored him with a guilty half-smile. "Oh. Right." ************* "Ok, Mulder, off with it." "Oh Scully, you can be so sexy when you're direct-" "Don't even try. C'mon, lose it." "If I pay her will she play doctor with me too ?" The first two voices spoke in unison. "Shut up Trader." "Sorry." Scully couldn't quite bite back a smirk as she unrolled the cloth hiding the medical supplies someone had stolen and she and Trader had bought. All things considered, the prisoners had worked out a pretty effective black market. She had bandages, antiseptic, and even some aspirin, which had cost a lot since it was in great demand. What he didn't know couldn't hurt him. At least not as much as the antiseptic. Mulder worked his way out of his shirt, gritting his teeth where cloth and flesh weren't too eager to part company. After it finally lay on the bed beside him, he braced himself for the gasp that escaped her mouth as soon as she saw his back. When she said nothing else, it began to worry him. "Is it that bad ?" Scully wasn't sure how to answer him. Over a dozen angry red welts criss-crossed his skin like lattice, some swollen and still seeping blood around the edges. She had known her recovery came at a price, but not this.... "Do you want the good news or the bad news ?" "The bad news first, please." "You've got some infection starting in places. I have antiseptic and bandages, but we'll run out of asprin before you run out of pain." "And the good news ?" "You'll probably pass out if it gets too bad." "Pass the aspirin." He rolled over on his stomach and glanced up at Trader. "If that doesn't work you have my permission to cold cock me." "Very funny Mulder." "Who said I was joking ?" Scully tore a strip away from the cloth bandages with her teeth, then soaked it until it was stained with the yellowish brown of the antiseptic. "Here we go." She said. "Count to three and then close your eyes." "One...two....OW !!" Mulder felt an explosion of pain ripple from his back over the rest of his body. "You could have given me a stick to bite on." he muttered. "Or at least warned me." "I warned you." Talking was good- she hoped it would keep his mind off the unpleasantries. As it turned out, the asprin lasted five minutes, and the cleaning process dragged out past an hour. Mercifully, he lost consciousness somewhere in the middle. After she tied off the last bandage, she noticed there was blood staining her hands. "I need to wash my hands." she said to Trader. "Put him in bed, will you. Face down, although that's obvious." "Right on Doc." He flashed her a rogue's smile. "Can I have a check up when you get back ?" "Only if you spend the time in between in solitary." Scully said, sending him a smile of her own before leaving to the washing pumps. As it turned out there was only a tiny bit of brown water left in the bottom, but it quickly became tainted scarlet as she washed her hands. It almost reminded her of her cancer, how she had always tried to wash her blood off her hands and never fully succeeded. When she stood to her feet again, an almost inaudible humming filled her ears like the buzz of a distant radio, radiating from the back of her neck. A subconscious pull turned her head toward the Interrogation Building. A face stared down at her from a window. Pavlov's face. The humming died as the sentence finished echoing throughout her mind, followed by ringing laughter. The laughter grew louder and louder until she could hear nothing else. Scully covered her ears with her hands, trying to shut the sound out, but it was impossible to escape. She had thought that the conflict would be only in certain places at certain times. She was wrong. The battle for her mind would follow her ever minute of the day, everywhere she went. to be continued..... - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - becoming judas 7/12 darkstar - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 'Round here she's always on my mind 'Round here, we've got lots of time..... 'Round here we talk just like lions But we sacrifice like lambs 'Round here, she's slipping through my hands. - 'Round Here Counting Crows ************* She was crying again. Scully never cried. At least never before, when they were running but running free. When they found the bodies of her families, she broke down enough to let him hold her for a few minutes, but that was all. She was crying now. He could hear her in the darkness, less than five feet away from him. It wasn't hard to make the connections- she had been returned from an interrogation earlier that afternoon. In some ways he had expected tears, but not any of the...other... behavior. Over the past two months she had gone from worse to unbelievable. Now she rarely talked, or slept, and it was no small accomplishment to get her to eat. Trader had racked his merchandise for fruit and other tempting items, but Scully refused. Politely, almost regretfully, but firmly. Sometimes Mulder would win out, and she would eat. Sometimes she wouldn't give in at all. But that wasn't the worst of it. She was avoiding him, trying to find excuses to be alone. Even when they were together she wasn't really there- her face was always blank and her eyes vacant, like she was somewhere very far away. When he tried to talk, she would tell him she was fine. When he tried to hold her hand, she would pull away. Sometimes she would scream. There were bad days and there were horrible days. The latter usually fell right before and after an interrogation. Scully would sit against the wall, rocking back and forth with her hands covering her ears, whispering to someone it seemed only she could see in a voice thick with hatred. Something was choking her from the inside out and try as he might, Mulder had no idea what. On second thought, that was only partially true. Pavlov certainly had something, more than likely everything, to do with it. And while Mulder had turned the camp upside down for an answer, not even Mastof seemed to know. Whatever the alien was doing to Scully, it was intensely private. The implications terrified him. He chose not to dwell on them. It was hard enough to lay in the dark and know she was hurting alone. The first time he had heard her crying, Mulder had tried to comfort her. Big mistake. She had seemed angry, almost furious with him for disturbing her. His presence, she had told him in no uncertain terms, did more harm than good so would he kindly leave before he hurt her anymore. He was hurting her ? No, that couldn't be true. Scully was angry, but not entirely with him. Perhaps with herself, perhaps with the person who was doing this to her. Whatever the reason, it had to stop. They had to leave her alone or they would drive her out of her mind. Mulder knew what he had to do. If Pavlov was causing this, then Pavlov would have to be taken out. A little voice inside his head challenged him. He sighed. It was the truth. Pavlov was untouchable, at least for now. If only he knew *what* he was doing to her. If only he knew how to get her to speak to him. If only...... ************* Night paled to morning before Scully could notice the difference. The time of day made little difference. She didn't sleep anymore. If she slept, she let her guard down and he could read her dreams... The assault was constant now, battering against the walls of her sanity with a dreadful and frightening intensity. If she stepped outside of the dark prison of her mind for one moment, Scully knew she would appear on the brink of destruction. But she could not step away from the battle, not even to pull herself away from the edge. Was that Pavlov's intent ? To push her over and then pick his information out from the pieces that remained after she hit rock bottom ? Scully didn't know. It had long ago sunk in that she was fighting an enemy she had no chance at defeating. Now all that remained was survival, and the desperate will not to lose what was left of herself to the monster. She was almost willing to end her life herself if it would get his voice out of her head, keep him from pawing over her most treasured thoughts like they were cheapened baubles. The idea had merit. End a pointless life with an honorable death. Attempt an escape. Fight very bravely and die very quickly. Then Pavlov could never touch her again. Mentally or otherwise. Scully was not that selfish. She held the fireband of life deep against her bosom, embracing the pain for one thing and one thing only. She was not blind. If she died, Mulder would die with her. He had poured so much of himself into keeping her alive, it was a small wonder he had any energy left at all. Which was why she could not let him help her now. It was her battle, her mind, and she would not be turned into some parasite, sucking the life out of him until he became as drained as she was. Pavlov was that kind of parasite. He feed off her fears and crushed her hopes. She knew this was hurting Mulder. She had seen the sadness in his eyes every time she told him she was fine, which she wasn't, or pulled away from his touch, which was almost a reaction by now. Her allergy to human contact must be another by-product of the torture. And it was torture, more painful than anything her body had gone through. Scully could stand a lot in her body as long as her mind was intact. But take away her spirit, and she was lost. She supposed it was a small victory that it had taken Pavlov two months to whittle her defenses down, but the thrill was overshadowed by the agony of inevitable defeat. Mulder didn't know. His mind was safe, his beautiful, intelligent soul, and she was going to keep it that way even if she destroyed herself in the process. Scully knew she was going down but she wasn't taking him with her. Not this time. His voice was back, the starting gun for the battle of the day. He laughed again. Pavlov emphasized the last few words and she could feel the evil of his smile. Scully closed her eyes and put her hands over her ears. It didn't help, but she could pretend it did and illusions were all she had left anyway. *************** "Trader, we need to talk." Mulder sat down beside him. "About Scully." "You know as much as I do." Trader concentrated on the watch he fixing more out of an excuse not to pay attention to Mulder than anything else. Lying didn't sit well with him, but he had promised Scully. "She's losing it, man. I've seen it happen a hundred times before. They can't handle it so they just put the world on pause." "That's not her." he said. "She's not that kind of person." "Nobody is, Mulder. Not until it happens." Mulder watched Trader's face carefully, particularly his eyes. Something was being left out, something he wasn't supposed to know. "Tell me again what happened during my three weeks solitary." "I told you. We went about our business, she got taken to an interrogation, we went to see you, bartered for supplies..." "Back up to the interrogation. Did she tell you anything, *anything* at all that might can explain why this started?" Trader shook his head and opened his mouth to continue the lie when Scully walked into the courtyard. He couldn't help but notice the way her ribs poked through the cloth, or the dark circles ringing her haunted eyes. "Actually there was something." He put down the watch and looked at Mulder. "She didn't want me to tell you, but she was really sick after the first interrogation." "Sick?" The word "cancer" came to mind with a vengeance and Mulder prayed that wasn't the case. "Nosebleeds ?" "No, I mean *sick* sick. She must have thrown up everything she had eaten the past week. She was really messed up. Wouldn't tell me what happened, but said she had to see you. It was about two days before you got out." "Before did you notice her acting any way like she does now?" "Now that you mention it, no. Not at all. It's like she's a whole different person." Mulder couldn't help but feel relieved that it was probably *not* cancer but joint with that came the knowledge that it was something directly related to Pavlov and his interrogations. Now that he knew for sure, he could take the offensive and find out why. Before it was too late. "I need to see the warden." he said. "Not again, man." Trader shook his head. " *You* may have forgotten the last time we burst into his office, but *I* spent most of the night hiding in a storage cellar with very large, very unfriendly rats. Not a good thing." "No," Mulder smiled ruefully. "I mean how do I make an appointment?" "Simple, you go find his secretary and tell her that you need to see the warden as soon as possible. Give her this-" Trader slipped him a bar of chocolate. "And say it's an emergency, that you'd like in today. It's all nice, clean, and no one gets hurt." "Where is the secretary's office?" "Right next door to the warden's. Although I would avoid the guards if possible. They might still remember the last time you charged in like the wrath of God." "I'll be sure to." Mulder knocked on the plain, unmarked door next to Mastof's office, hoping that he had the right place. After a moment, a pleasant enough female voice called him to come in. He opened the door, shutting it carefully behind him, then looked up to see who he had to bribe. And was promptly shocked speechless. The woman sitting behind the desk, her long brown hair done up in a neat bun and her face formed into a question at his expression was a Samantha. Not the Samantha. He knew he would never be *that* lucky. But it looked like her and it was enough to knock him off his feet until she spoke again. "May I help you...sir??" "Oh yeah...." Mulder cleared his throat and approached the desk. "I need to see the warden." "State your prison number and reason for admittance please." Mulder glanced down at his wrist. "Prisoner number 8312075 in regards to a private situation." He placed the bar of chocolate in front of her. "A very urgent private situation." The Samantha looked down at the gift then back up at Mulder. "Is this a bribe?" "No. It's a gift." She smiled in an expression that reminded him of the real Samantha when she was about to scold him. "I'm sorry. I don't take that kind of gifts." She watched him for a moment more. "But I can get you in at noon regardless." "Thank you." Mulder returned her smile with one of his own, even genuine. As he turned to go, her voice called after him. "Do I know you?" she asked him, a somewhat puzzled look on her face. "You look familar..." This time his smile was a little sad. "No, I don't think you do. Good day." He walked out the door and down the hall, already planning what he would say to Mastof. In fact he was so deep in thought he didn't notice the way her face fell when he answered her, like someone who expected bad news but hated to hear it all the same. ************* "Come in, come in." Pavlov's voice beckoned her through the shadows, and she could see him standing under the lamp, his hands on the back of the chair. "Please, sit." Scully stood at the door just long enough to contradict him, then walked into the light and sat down. The handcuffs clamped in their familiar places, and the final chess match was now in session. "You know, I really must tell you how much I've enjoyed our time together. It is so hard these days to find a worthy adversary, one left with enough spirit to provide a true challenge." "If you and your kind didn't suck the life out of the world, you'd find more." "Dana, Dana, Dana, you still don't understand, do you ? This world is ours. The people have settled into our rule. Among them *you* are the disease, the cancer. Only when those like yourself learn to accept the lives we so generously leave you with will society began to move on." Scully had neither the time nor the energry for a debate, so she tuned him out, withdrawing to her last stronghold of thought to prepare it for the assault. It took Pavlov only moments to recognize that he no longer had her interest, and his footsteps echoed in the emptiness of the room as he moved to his customary place behind her. His hands closed around her temples and it all began again. ************* "What are you letting him do to Scully ?" No sooner had Mulder's foot landed inside the door to Mastof's office than the question jumped out of his mouth as it had a mind of its own. "I need to know." "Ah. Mulder." Mastof looked up from his paperwork, ignoring the subject. "At least you made an appointment this time." "He's *killing* her! And I want to know how." Mastof leaned back in his chair. "I don't know." he said. "He's above me, I can't help you." "Certainly you know something. Anything. You're the warden." "Yes, Mulder, I am the warden and he is a specially sent Interrogator with authority so far above mine I am nothing more than an errand boy as long as he is here." "I refuse to believe that." "Well believe it." He stood to his feet, walking until he stood in front of Mulder. "I've helped you twice already, but now you can help me. Give him the information. Do you think I actually *like* watching her or you or anyone else be turned into a zombie ? You knew the risks when you signed onto the battle and it was just your hard luck to pick the wrong side." "Does that mean you won't help me?" "No, Mulder." Mastof said. "It means I can't. Not until you wise up and start cooperating. And until you're ready to do that, I suggest you spend your time somewhere else besides my office. Am I clear?" "Like a bell." Mulder said. "I suppose the mistake was mine, *sir*, in expecting you to behave like a human just because you used to be one." The words hit home with a vengeance as Mastof watched Mulder exit the room without so much as another glance. Was it really true? He stood in front of the window in his office, a large sheet of plate glass taking up most of the western wall, and watched his reflection stare back at him. After a few moments his gaze wandered down to the courtyard below, to the prisoners going about their task. Mastof had often watched them, using it as a reminder of how fortunate he was to be spared their fate. Now he wondered if he had really come out on top. ************* Scully gritted her teeth as another stab of phantom pain skewed the back of her mind. It was all she could do to keep from screaming as the tension within her head built like a mutated version of a headache. One by one she had watched Pavlov knock her barriers aside like they were paper instead of stone. The chinks and gaps in her defenses were too many to patch up. Five minuted ago he had attacked her queen, the memories of Emily's death. She stood inside the door, pushing with all the dead weight of the junk memories she had left to keep him out. His voice showed the strain as he tried to break into the thought. There was a silence and a moment's lessening of the battle's intensity that she should have taken as a warning. An instant later, a very real, very tangible hand stuck her savagely across the face, and she felt the warm sticky flow of blood begin to gush out of her nose. The pain rushed around her like some howling demon, snapping her concentration only at the moment of impact. That was all he needed. With a triumphant shout he returned to her mind, knocking the door and her junk memories aside. She was frozen, helpless, while he threw the images in her face as he followed the path closer and closer toward the prize. Then came the coffin, pictures of a cross lost in a sea of sand. The question unfroze Scully, and she blinked to shatter the past, then raced ahead of Pavlov to the last of her strongholds. He had captured Emily. Her queen was dead and now one solitary knight remained alone on the battlefield, standing in brave protection of the king. Memories of Mulder surrounded the precious information, and she stood among them as his forces swept down in their final attack. It came with the raw power of a thunder storm, battering at her from all directions. He would race down one path, slam into the barrier, then race down another and do the same. And though the memories stood strong, each fresh blow drove old weakness to new heights. Scully felt her resolve weaken and knew Pavlov did too. Scully threw her head back in open defiance. She would not let him win. She would not let him have Mulder. The battle came to a dead stop, like the eerie peace of the eye of a hurricane, as she felt him gather his attack and focus it for one final run. As she marshalled her strength to play the only card she had left. With a sound like the roar of a train run amok, Pavlov rushed her walls. She paused, waiting with her head high and eyes glowing as he drew ever closer until she could taste his triumph. And she pulled her walls down, sealing herself and the answers about the rebellion deep within the rubble of her mind. Above she could hear his scream of abject frustration, feel him dig useless through the debris. A tiny smile graced her lips as she fell of her own free will into oblivion. As she threw the battle, sacrificing herself, to save the war. Another vicious slap drew her right back out. Scully opened her eyes to see Pavlov's face, turned inside out with hatred, inches from her own. "This is *not* over." he hissed, undoing her handcuffs. "You have destroyed the only thing that makes you who you are. I will use that to destroy you." His hands closed around her shoulders, pulling her up and out of the chair. With a roar that sounded more alien than anything else, he hurled her through the air. Her body cried out in silent protest as it slammed into the door. She crumpled to the floor, the sudden emptiness of her mind crashing in around her as she tried to disassociate the pain. "Get out." he hissed. "Go salvage your sanity." Scully pushed herself to her feet, reeling back again the door as she did so. The nausea was back, worse than even the first time. She opened the door and didn't even bother to shut it because this time she was going to walk away. There was nothing more to be afraid of. Pavlov had thrown his best at her and she had beaten him back. Only now, as she racked her brain for memories of Mulder or life before or anything but found only nothing, she doubted that she was truly the winner. The inside of her stomach began to lurch toward her mouth very quickly and she had to run behind a building in order to make it before the vomiting started. The convulsions of her stomach left her on her knees as she threw up what little food she had. Unlike the first time, her body couldn't be convinced to stop when it was empty, and she continued to retch until she was coughing up blood. It mixed with the blood from her nose until all she could taste was it's metallic saltiness, which made her even sicker. She rolled to her side, not caring if she landed in the stuff. A pair of strong arms caught her before she hit the ground. She looked up to see who it was, and through the red tint of the world she could make out Mulder, holding her up despite the blood that was running down his arms and staining his shirt. Mulder supported her as gently as he could, holding her hair back when she turned her face away from him just as another mouthful of blood hit the dirt. The sour smell of bile hit his senses, making him gag on reflex. He shifted his arms around to get a better grip around her. She could be angry at him all she wanted to later, but he wasn't going to leave her alone this time. "Make it stop..." her voice was weak, a whisper around the gagging in her throat. "Make him stop...." The note of pleading in her tone was something he had never heard before, and it scared him more than the blood. He wished he could find an answer to give her. Visions of Pavlov melting into a tiny puddle of green goo and then him and Scully stepping in it danced through his head as he held her until she finished spitting up blood. After a few added moments of dry heaves, she lay motionless in his arms, too weak to do much more. Her eyes were vacant once again as she stared up into the sky, but her hand rested in his. Mulder wiped the area of her nose and mouth clean with his sleeve, feeling sick himself but ignoring the sensation. He couldn't shake the simple desperation in her voice as he lifted her off the ground to carry her back into the barracks. He wished he knew how. *********** Pavlov watched Mulder walk across the courtyard, carrying Scully as he went. Behind him on his desks lay transcripts of Mulder's last five sessions, each one more punishing than the last. But still the human held on. It had been something of a puzzle to his mind until now. Dana was the key. He suspected it all along, but the battle he had fought and lost had drawn his attentions away from the obvious. Now that she had been shattered, Mulder would be looking for a way to put the pieces back together. All he had to do was offer one. ************* Mulder was having an increasingly hard time keeping the fury boiling inside him from exploding out. He had spent all of last night holding what was left of Scully in his arms, as if he was the only thing that kept her together. Maybe he was, he didn't know. He was certain, however, that the man who wanted to see him was responsible for it. Pavlov had called for him to meet him in his office.. Until now Mulder had thought he knew what hatred was. He thought he had hated. But nothing he had ever felt before compared to the way his hot anger cooled to hard steel when the door opened and he found himself face to face with the alien. "Come in and have a seat, Mulder." his voice was syrupy was false cheer that Mulder hoped he would choke on. "I prefer to stand." "As you wish," Pavlov said. He stayed in his seat for a moment longer and then rose to his feet. "We won't be here long, anyway." "I take it this isn't an interrogation." "You are correct in assuming that. I've been reading the transcripts of your last few interrogations, and I must applaud you. Your resistance to our methods has been exemplary." "Is that so." "Yes. My attentions as of late have been..." He couldn't quite keep the smile off his face. "Elsewhere, but I'm sure you know that. Today I thought you might like a change of pace. Come with me." "And if I don't want to?" "Oh let's not be unpleasant, shall we?" He opened a door in the back of his office and motioned for Mulder to walk through. "You should consider this a privilege. No mere prisoner has seen what you are about to. It is normally reserved for those with power, influence. Think of it as an honor." Mulder didn't answer as they walked down a dimly lit corridor into a part of the building he didn't even know existed. His mind was occupied with the twin tasks of trying to figure out what Pavlov was up to and resisting the temptation to attack the man while he had a chance. Before he could reach a conclusion on either matter, they arrived at a plain wooden door guarded by one sentry with the biggest AK-47 Mulder had ever seen. The guard stiffened to attention when he saw Palov. Mulder noted with mild interest that it was a Kurt Crawford clone. "This is KC-371." Pavlov said. "He will be your escort once we are inside." He nodded to the clone, who stepped forward and snapped pair of handcuffs around his wrist then attached the other side to Mulder's. "Oh so this is kind of a look but don't touch thing?" he asked Pavlov. "Or are you just afraid I'll bolt." "Let's just say that you might find some of this a little unsettling. We can't have you causing trouble." He walked through the door and the Crawford clone pulled Mulder after him. The outer door led through a short, dark foyer to another door bursting at the seams with light. Mulder could heard a muffled thud that sounded almost like a gavel on wood. He was going to see a trial? They walked through the second door and that idea vanished quickly. He found himself standing near the back of a room filled with a number of high-ranking Enforcer and military officials, not to mention several faces of his old Consortium enemies. One face in particular drew his interest, surrounded by a cloud of smoke as he gazed with interest at the center of the room. In fact, they all were staring at the center of the room. Mulder became aware of the banter of an auctioneer and suddenly decided he didn't want to see anything more. By this time he had no choice- Pavlov and the clone had already pulled him to the very front of the crowd. His stomach curled into a mixture of hate and anger and disgust. A girl not a day over fourteen stood in the center of the room, her head bowed as the men cast their bids on her. A black metal collar was connected by chain to shackles on her wrists and ankles. Now that he was closer, he could hear what the auctioneer was saying. "Oh come now gentlemen, only thirty-two hundred? Certainly she's worth more than that. A fine young specimen, not even here a week. She has a clean bill of health and she's fresh off the press gentleman. Who wants to be the first to own this lovely young woman?" Hands were raised, bids called out, until the gavel beat the closing of the deal at thirty-five hundred. The girl's new owner, a man wearing a military uniform with a sagging paunch and beady black eyes, stepped forward, grabbing the girl's chin and pulling her face up. Unabashed fear glowed from her eyes as he stroked the skin of her face with his finger. When she tried to pull away, the man knocked her to the floor with one sweep of his fist. Mulder moved forward to teach him a thing or two about the bad ethics of hitting girls but the handcuffs yanked him back. He could only watch in helpless frustration as the girl lay on the floor, sobbing softly to herself as two more Crawford clones removed her from the room. "Where is she going?" he asked Pavlov, even though it meant talking to him. "Oh, no sales are final until authorized by the warden. It's just a technicality really, to make sure that it's all legal." he held up his hand to silence Mulder's retort. "You'll want to pay attention. I think the next piece of merchandise will be of interest to you." The realization of his truth was like a guillotine- first painful and then numb as the shock fully set in. A door to the left of the room was opening.... He had dared. The room was silent in expecation. Or was it just his own senses magnifying the clank of chains and thud of footsteps as the next "merchandise" into the room? The last word stopped cold as she walked into the room. Mulder almost succeeded in convincing himself that there was someone else in the camp with her build, her carriage. Then she lifted her head to meet the room and his heart stopped. It was Scully. There was no denying her face, the quiet pride that shone for her eyes as she stood as tall as the chains would allow her. A ripple of whispers spread across the room, and Mulder wanted to scream long and loud and drown them out. Yes, she was beautiful in the way that drove men insane when matched with her strength. But she was not any man's *possession* She was not a thing to be gawked at and whispered about and bid upon. She was something to die for and he had never felt it so keenly as the moment her eyes hit his. Scully sent her wish into from the silence of her mind into the racket of his, almost believing he could hear her. She had determined she would be strong before she ever set foot in the room, that she would walk as a human and not as a slave, but this only reinforced it. She didn't know why he was here, until her eyes made it to down to the silver bracelet, followed it to the guard and noticed Pavlov standing over the whole thing like head demon. Until now she hadn't been sure if she was strong anymore, if she could be. But she had the motivations of hate and love and sheer defiance that she recognized as integral parts of herself thought long lost in Pavlov's chair. They kept her standing up straight as the auctioneer began again. "Up next we have something for those of you man enough to want a challenge." Somewhere in the room someone laughed and Mulder wanted to strangle him. "She's ex-resistance, but just look at her. A little of the belt and she'll add fire to anyone's life. Who'll start the bidding at twenty-five hundred ?" "Twenty-five hundred." A young, cocky looking officer who couldn't keep his eyes off her body raised his hand. "Twenty-seven." The same officer who had bought the girl made the next bid. Things heated up after that, and the bids flew thick and fast until Mulder could no longer tell who was naming what price. Scully didn't seem to notice them, her eyes filled with the fierce storm of emotion he had come to recognize from other times when she had stood up to impossible things. "Twenty." A voice boomed from the back corner of the room and silence reigned supreme. Mulder recognized the voice and obviously the rest of the room respected it enough not to comment on the absurdity of offering a bid lower than the last. "I'm sorry...sir..." The auctioneer himself seemed a little nervous as the man walked towards the center of the room. "but the bidding started at twenty five." "Twenty *thousand.*." The Cigarette-Smoking Man breathed a cloud of smoke into the air as a frenzy of not quite soft enough whispers of amazement filled the room at his back. The auctioneer gathered his compsure enough to pick up his gavel. "The bidding stands at twenty.... thousand.....dollars. Any other bids ?" He didn't even have to wait for replies that wouldn't come. "Sold." The thud of the gavel on the wood told Mulder that it was written in stone. Scully's eyes were once more locked inside his, a minute speck of horror she would only let him see skirting the edges of her vision. Then the Smoking Man stepped in front of her and that speck disappeared. He stared at her for a moment, taking a long draw of the cancer stick in his mouth, as if to appraise her true value. His fingers started at her hairline and ran down the side of her face and neck to her shoulders. Scully stiffened, ignoring him, choosing instead to stare over his shoulder at Mulder. From this short distance she could easily see his body quivering with a rage kept in check only by the handcuffs. The Smoking Man realized she wasn't looking at him and followed her gaze until he too saw Mulder. "Has your lover come to wish you farewell?" he asked. "You know he can be of no help to you now that you belong to me." "I belong to no one. Least of all you." Mulder's gaze was nothing less than murder as he stared at the old man. His vow of revenge was silent to all except the halls of his own mind. The Cigarette- Smoking Man smiled around his cigarette, a very slow mocking smile. Turning back to Scully, he crushed the butt of his cigarette on the side of her neck. Mulder noticed her flinch, and he shot forward, ready to take the cigarette and shove it down the man's throat. He made it two steps before the clone jerked him back again. The Smoking Man smiled again, and then waved to the other clones. "Take her away." Scully met his gaze one last time, but only for a moment before she turned and followed the clones out of the room. Mulder stared after her until the Crawford began to pull him in the direction of the door. Right before they left the room, he recognized another familiar enemy. Krycek leaned against the wall in a corner, his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. When Mulder saw his eyes he could have sworn he saw pity, even sympathy. It didn't make sense and the notion was easy to dismiss in favor of the fresh supply of hate within him as they walked back to Pavlov's office. "Well, how did you like it ?" "What do you want from me ?" Mulder rubbed his wrist where the handcuff had left a red circle. "Ah, the question I'd never thought you'd ask." Pavlov sat down behind his desk and motioned to the chair in front of it. "Will you take a seat ?" Mulder considered refusing, but ended up sitting. "I know of your record, Mulder. You can be a tremendous asset to whatever group you align yourself with. Don't think that because we are enemies I haven't noticed it." "Cut the crap and just tell me what you want me to do." "Very well. I am prepared to offer you a position with us. You will have your freedom, money, and anything else that might cross your mind. Including her freedom." "Isn't it a tad late for that?" "Not at all." Pavlov leaned forward in his desk. "Remember, the sale has to be approved to be legal. One word from me and that little scene you watched never happened. Think about it Mulder. Think where she's going and then decide if you want to be the one that sent her there." "You want me to turn traitor." Mulder believed what they were asking him more than he believed the fact that he was actually considering it. "I've put a delay order on Scully's paperwork. Take some time and think about it. But not too much time. Her owner has put considerable pressure on us to get the legal stuff over with quickly." "I'll be he has..." Mulder muttered under his breath. "Is that all?" "Yes." Pavlov said. "You may go." He had seen the look in Mulder's eyes at the thought of Scully's freedom. The bait and been set, the trap had been sprung. And something told him Mulder would be back in his office very, very soon. to be continued... - - - - - - - - - - - -